


Cappuccino

by kmlo2



Series: As Always, It's Coffee [2]
Category: B.A.P
Genre: M/M, and junhong as a fanboy, because i really wanted to write youngjae as a designer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 03:06:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1672388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kmlo2/pseuds/kmlo2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Junhong gave up his dreams just to be close to Youngjae, but all he's good for is fetching coffee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cappuccino

Junhong’s mother always calls about half an hour before he starts work. He’s usually on the bus by then, but that’s okay. His earphones broke last week, so it’s not as if he can listen to music or anything anyway. Every morning she says the same things, asks the same questions. How is work? Are they treating you well? Don’t forget to eat your vegetables and clean your room regularly.

He gives her the same answers he always does – work is great. Everyone treats him well even though he’s new. Yes, he’s eating his vegetables, and yes, he cleaned his room just two days ago. She hums in approval and Junhong tries not to make his relief too obvious. She asks him if she and his father can visit him this weekend, and as usual, Junhong tells her it’s better if they didn’t, because he’s been inundated with work and doesn’t have free time even on weekends.

Thankfully, his mother believes him. Her voice is filled with pride when she says she’s so glad her baby son is growing up and making something of himself. She mentions that the ahjumma from the bakery popped in yesterday and brought her some of Junhong’s favourite bread. She says she wishes he could be there to eat it. Junhong ‘oh’s noncommittally and cuts the conversation short, saying he’s almost at work now. They exchange goodbyes and he slips in a quiet ‘love you mom’ before hanging up.

Junhong hurries down the street towards the art academy, not wanting to be late. In his haste he bumps into a well-dressed young man who proceeds to curse at him. Wanting to apologise, Junhong turns back around in time to see the man bump into another pedestrian, this time a girl carrying an armful of art supplies. After checking his watch he decides he can’t wait around anymore and rushes past the gates of the academy.

He sprints to the fashion department, where he is employed as the personal assistant to the department’s senior lecturer, world-renowned designer Yoo Youngjae. Of course, being the new guy, it means that he’s practically the personal assitant to  _anybody_  who feels like it while Youngjae is busy at his lectures. His usual day consists of cleaning up after everyone, fetching things for people when they don’t feel like getting off their asses, and running errands that the other assistants don’t want.

He doesn’t have the heart to tell his mother that her precious youngest son is being treated like this, not when she thinks he’s got an important job in the city and is making his hometown proud.

When he first got the job he was pretty excited. Even though he’d be working as an assistant rather than actually studying at the academy, he’d finally be moving away from his parents’ home in the countryside to the big city. He’d finally have a chance to be close to his inspiration, whose designs covered the walls of his bedroom back home. Perhaps he’d even have a chance to show Youngjae the sketches of his own designs too. The notion of it had made him blush and cover his mouth to hide a bashful smile.

Right from Day One, however, Junhong realised that this new job of his wouldn’t be everything he hoped it’d be. To this day, his sketchbook sits in his bag, untouched.  


 

His morning begins in the usual way; he turns on all the computers, threads the sewing machines, and gives the floor a good sweep before everyone else arrives. Once they do he collects their bags and jackets and greets them with a bow and a cheerful ‘good morning’. The majority of the staff gives him little more than a grunt in acknowledgment.

As always, Youngjae is the last person to arrive. Everybody in the room goes quiet and some people visibly stiffen. Junhong collects his hat and coat and pulls out Youngjae’s seat for him, then sets a glass of mineral water on his desk. He bows, asking if there are any special jobs for him today. After Youngjae shakes his head, Junhong sets about doing his usual morning chores and tries to disturb him as little as possible.

For being his personal assistant, Junhong doesn’t interact much with Youngjae. He’s quiet and cold and has an air about him that discourages most people from approaching him. In the eight months that Junhong has been working here, though their desks are literally a metre apart, Youngjae has not said anything to him aside from simple orders. Still, while it does leave him feeling down a lot of the time, Junhong doesn’t hold it against him. Youngjae is a busy man with a lot of things on his mind, no doubt. He can’t be expected to pay too much attention to someone as insignificant as his personal assistant, right?

The rest of his morning is spent following the orders of the other staff members and trying to organise Youngjae’s lecture schedule for the next few months, fitting them around the upcoming Fashion Week project. It’s getting to the time of the year where Youngjae will be putting together a production team to create his collection for Fashion Week. Each year, both students and faculty members can apply to be part of this team and have the opportunity to work directly under Youngjae on the project. Of course, Junhong intends to apply in due time (provided he can stop playing slave boy to the rest of the department).

Once he’s happy with the schedule for the next few weeks, he looks up from his planner and checks the time; it’s ten to eleven. He breathes a sigh of relief. Every day at ten to eleven, Youngjae sends him out to get coffee from the small coffee shop a few blocks away. Aside from when he leaves for the day, it’s the only time Junhong gets to step outside the gates of the academy. It’s a brief but welcome escape.

Today he’s in such a hurry to leave he trips over his bag. He makes sure to put everything away properly, tucking his sketchbook into the very bottom of the bag, before dashing out again. He makes his way to Youngjae’s favourite coffee shop and orders the usual – a trim cappuccino, extra hot and with half a teaspoon of cane sugar. The half-teaspoon of cane sugar is extremely important. Junhong isn’t sure how, but Youngjae can tell if too little or too much has been added, and he won’t drink it if it’s not to his taste. Maybe he can’t comprehend it because he grew up in the countryside where they didn’t have fancy coffee shops like this.

By the time he returns to the fashion department, everyone has left for their usual thirty-minute morning break – everyone except Youngjae, of course. This is precisely why Junhong loves the morning break so much. For a whole thirty minutes, he has no duties other than to sit at his desk and watch Youngjae drink his coffee. As mundane as this sounds, Junhong is certain that there’s no other time of the day where Youngjae seems as content. He revels in the way Youngjae drums his fingers on the paper cup, the way he sighs after each sip and the way he licks his delicate lips after he’s done.

When Junhong hands Youngjae his cappuccino he can almost swear he saw him smile. He doesn’t think much of it as he sits down at his desk and picks his bag up. It’s been so long since he last drew anything, he’d forgotten his sketchbook was even  _there_  – perhaps he’ll be able to do a quick scribble before the break is over. When he opens his bag, his sketchbook doesn’t seem to be at the bottom, where he remembers putting it. He furrows his brow, but takes it out anyway and starts sketching on a new page. He and Youngjae sit in silence, and their break, as well as the rest of the day, carries on as normal.  


 

The next day when Youngjae arrives, the first thing to leave his lips is an order for Junhong to accompany him to his first lecture. He doesn’t often do this, but every other time it has been because he needed an extra pair of hands to carry his materials for him, so Junhong doesn’t feel particularly thrilled by the invitation. Nevertheless, he’s happy to be able to join the lecture and listen to Youngjae teach.

To his surprise, Youngjae doesn’t use him as a packhorse this time, and Junhong ends up sitting in the front row of the theatre, taking notes just like the students do. After his morning cappuccino, Youngjae nonchalantly instructs Junhong to follow him to his classes for the rest of the day too. Though Junhong protests, saying he’s still not finished with the Fashion Week schedule, Youngjae interrupts him because the next lecture is in five minutes. Junhong is left with no choice but to do as he’s told, afraid to push the matter further.

The day after that, the first thing Youngjae says is a quiet ‘good morning, Junhong’. Then he tells Junhong to attend all his lectures for the next week, and the boy (as well as the rest of the staff, for that matter) spends the next fifteen minutes trying to decide whether or not he was hearing things. As it happens, Junhong’s ears weren’t failing him, and Youngjae makes sure that his assistant follows him to all his classes. Of course, he still allows Junhong time to fetch his coffee, and he still spends the thirty-minute break sipping that coffee in silence.

By Friday, Junhong has become accustomed to ducking out of Youngjae’s last morning lecture to buy his cappuccino. He walks a little faster than usual since he’s at a different lecture theatre today. Once he places his order at the coffee shop, the barista doesn’t talk to him like he usually does. Although it makes him a little disheartened, it means that he won’t be late in returning to the fashion department.

Junhong nearly drops the coffee cup when he gets to the office and finds Youngjae hunched over his desk, flipping through his sketchbook. Youngjae, on the other hand, straightens up and closes the sketchbook and, as if nothing had ever happened, sits down at his own desk, waiting for Junhong to hand over the cappuccino. Neither of them utters a word to each other and the day ticks on in this manner.

It’s not until after all his lectures are over, when they’re both sittng in the office and Youngjae stands to leave for the day, that he speaks to Junhong. His words are curt and simple, not unlike the instructions he normally gives; “Meet me at the coffee shop at half-past three tomorrow.”

He exits the office while Junhong sinks lower into his seat, dazed. He can’t hear the confused, excited babbling of his co-workers over the sound of his own flustered thoughts. About two minutes away from his stop on the bus, it finally sinks in that Youngjae –  _the_  Yoo Youngjae – has asked him out for coffee. His lifelong role model and inspiration has taken notice of him for some reason or other, and tomorrow they’ll be meeting for a coffee date.

He turns the phrase ‘coffee date’ over in his head, feeling his cheeks burn more and more at the thought of it.  


 

So as not to work himself up too much, he had tried to put the date to the back of his mind. Evidently he’d been unsuccessful, and when Junhong finds himself outside the coffee shop the next day, he checks his watch with shaky hands only to discover that it reads three o’clock. He waits around, awkwardly fiddling with the hem of his denim jacket, hoping his choice of outfit won’t embarrass him.

When half-past three rolls around, he begins to panic. What if he’d misheard the time or place? What if Youngjae hadn’t actually been serious about the date? What if this was just some cruel prank one of the other assistants decided to pull on him? At thirty-seven minutes past three, Youngjae shows up and Junhong has to refrain from running over and squeezing him to death.

Youngjae chooses a table situated well inside the coffee shop and Junhong goes to order their drinks – he already knows what Youngjae’s having, after all. Unexpectedly, Youngjae is rather talkative; as soon as Junhong sits down again he’s asked about his family, where he comes from, and his educational background. None of these are things Junhong is particularly proud of, but he answers honestly. He tells Youngjae about his rural hometown (that, unsurprisingly, Youngjae has never heard of) and his parents who catch fish for a living. He talks about his old high school, and how none of his teachers took him seriously when he had told them he wanted a job in the fashion industry.

Their conversation is halted when the barista brings them their orders. Youngjae looks over his trim cappuccino, extra hot with half a teaspoon of cane sugar, and his expression changes ever so slightly at Junhong’s hot chocolate topped with cream. Sheepishly, Junhong admits that he’s still not a big fan of coffee, and that it’s probably because he’s still very much a country bumpkin. At this, Youngjae gives an amused smile. It’s no big deal, he reassures the young assistant. Coffee is an acquired taste, and even Youngjae couldn’t stand it until he’d started studying fashion. He used to detest its bitterness – he used to be a cheerful person, who laughed at everything and enjoyed the simple things in life. He used to try his hardest in everything and take risks to pursue his dream. Now that he’s supposedly achieved his dream, the bitterness of coffee doesn’t even come close to the bitterness of the world he’s come to live in.

Junhong’s heart aches a little when Youngjae’s smile falters, and he argues that Youngjae’s bitterness still managed to inspire him, and though Junhong himself is nobody, Youngjae and his designs are everything to Junhong. The comment makes the designer choke on his drink. Junhong panics again, thinking he’s said something wrong, but once Youngjae composes himself again, he manages to smile and whisper a ‘thank you’ under his breath. He then promptly changes the subject and they talk about Junhong’s own designs.

Once again, it’s a topic about which Junhong feels somewhat embarrassed, especially when he recalls how Youngjae flipped through his sketchbook yesterday. He talks about how much he admires the sleek, tailored lines that are Youngjae’s trademark, but personally he loves colour and entropy and the unexpected, so he incorporates all these things into his own sketches. Youngjae sits back and listens intently and contributes his own point of view, and in this manner they talk the afternoon away.  


 

He didn’t really know what to expect when he turned up to work this morning, but it seems that everything’s reverted back to normal. Youngjae has barely spoken to him and it’s almost time to finish up for the day. He hadn’t mentioned their date on Saturday, or the sketchbook, and he’d only invited him to the first lecture of the day. Junhong has spent the rest of his time organising the Fashion Week project schedule and tidying up after the other staff.

Over the next couple of weeks, Youngjae pays him little or no heed, and goes as far as to disappear halfway through the day or stay behind long after everybody has left. Applications for the Fashion Week production team will soon be open, and Junhong wonders if he’s done something to upset Youngjae or if he’s simply stressing over the designs for this season’s collection.

Despite his co-workers telling him he shouldn’t, Junhong applies for a position in the Fashion Week production team just as he planned. Even once he’s submitted his application, he can hear them whispering about it. Who does he think he is, he doesn’t even come from an artistic background, all he’s good for is sweeping floors and fetching coffee.

Junhong's confidence gives him broad shoulders though. The conversation he'd had on Saturday had given him hope that perhaps Youngjae would probably like to offer him this chance. With this in mind, he doesn’t take any of these remarks to heart – not until Youngjae reads out the list of successful applicants at a faculty meeting and Junhong realises that his name hasn’t been called out.

Be calm, he tells himself as he makes his way to Youngjae’s desk, and be confident. Don’t let your nerves get to you. Just say whatever’s on your mind – everyone’s gone home for the day so there’s no need to be flustered. Youngjae looks up as he approaches, wearing an expectant half-smile. He doesn’t appear to be at all surprised when Junhong asks him why he wasn’t selected for the production team. Rather, he rests his chin in his hand and wonders aloud why Junhong even considered applying in the first place.

The tone of his voice is callous and Junhong feels a stabbing pain in his chest from it. How could he begin to describe this pain? Is it humiliation? Betrayal, perhaps? Anger? They’re all present in the way he yells and slams his fists on Youngjae’s desk. He demands to know whether or not Youngjae realised how much he wanted this, how hard he worked in order to try for this shitty position of his. He tells him how much it crushes him to be so close to the job of his dreams, knowing he’ll never have it. He bites back a sob when he says he doesn’t know how many times he’s had to lie to his poor mother, telling her he’s being treated well, when in fact he spends his days slaving away after people who don’t even know his name.

Tears sting his eyes and though he tries to blink them away they spill down his cheeks anyway. He tells Youngjae that this was his dream – to be able to work under him to help create this collection. Youngjae is – has always been – his inspiration. Hell, maybe Junhong even has feelings for him, but Youngjae’s making it really fucking hard for Junhong to love him right now.

When he finally stops for a breath, Junhong becomes aware of just how petty he sounds. The wide-eyed look on Youngjae’s face clearly shows how baffled he is at the words of his normally quiet and compliant assistant. For what seems like hours, but in reality is less than a minute, Youngjae wordlessly stares right into Junhong’s eyes. Junhong has run out of things to say and anxiously shifts his weight from one foot to the other, ready for the harsh words he’s about to receive.

Everything happens in slow motion. At first he notices the corners of Youngjae’s lips forming a smile, his eyes beginning to glitter, his button nose wrinkling, and then raucous laughter. Youngjae doubles over from his laughter and has to grab onto his desk so as not to fall out of his chair. It’s the first time he’s ever seen Youngjae laugh and it’s a strangely beautiful sight to behold, but Junhong fails to understand what’s so funny. If anything, he’s even madder than before now that Youngjae’s belittling his feelings like this, and he turns to leave.

As he reaches the door, he’s stopped by Youngjae telling him to take the morning off and to start at eleven o’clock instead.  


 

He seriously considers not going to work altogether the next day. He even entertains the idea of writing a letter of resignation, but at quarter-past ten, as if his body has a mind of its own, he’s out the door and on his way to work. He gets to the office at eleven o’clock to be greeted by silence. Of course. It’s morning break time, after all.

Unsure of what to do with himself, Junhong shuffles to his desk, opting to get some more work done before everyone else returns. Upon reaching his desk though, he spots a takeaway coffee cup. On the lid, his name has been written with a permanent marker. The handwriting looks eerily similar to Youngjae’s but Junhong knows better than to think he’d do something so nice for him.

Cautiously he picks it up and takes a slow, tentative sip. It’s hot chocolate. He inspects the cup and realises that it’s just like the takeaway cups from Youngjae’s favourite coffee shop. As he turns it in his hand, he sees another note scrawled on the side of the cup. This is  _definitely_  Youngjae’s handwriting.  


_‘Compulsory meeting in the boardroom at 11. By the time you read this you’ll already be late, so come quickly.’_   


Panic-stricken, Junhong slams the cup on the table, hot chocolate sloshing all over his desk, before he rushes to the boardroom. When he gets there, sure enough the entire faculty is there, as well as a group of students – there are some who are part of the production team and others Junhong has only seen once or twice before, from the department of dance and music, who’ll probably model the Fashion Week collection.

The lights in the room have been dimmed and Youngjae is giving a presentation at the front. He slips into the room quietly and stands close to the door, afraid that moving any more will disrupt the meeting. Youngjae is in the middle of giving an introduction to his designs for this season. Then, as he starts to present each of his twelve designs, Junhong notices that something isn’t quite right.

There’s a grey pencil skirt with a goldfish-yellow lace train; a blazer with neon pink skulls printed on the lapels; a plain black shift dress with an electric blue paint splatter over the heart. After seeing each design one by one realisation dawns on him. He’s seen these designs before – no, not just that – they’re  _his_  designs. The rough drawings he’d scribbled in his sketchbook, the ones he thought would never see the light of day – they’re being presented to him here, tidied and refined. By the time the presentation finishes, his heart is threatening to beat through his ribs.

Youngjae concludes by giving background information on the collection. It’s exactly what they discussed that Saturday afternoon at the coffee shop – the union of clean lines and rebellious colour that Junhong loves. He mentions that this time round, he didn’t come up with the designs himself. Rather, he used someone else’s designs without their permission. The entire room goes silent in disbelief.

Youngjae’s eyes scan the crowd and when his gaze settles on Junhong he smiles brightly and beckons him to the front. Terrified, Junhong’s legs walk forward of their own accord and now he’s standing before the entire fashion department, his breathing unsteady and his heart racing.

Youngjae explains to his audience that the designs all belong to Junhong and that his passion and humility have moved him to appoint Junhong as the co-designer of the collection alongside Youngjae himself. It’s only when Youngjae slips his hand into Junhong’s that the assistant notices just how sweaty his palms have become. Youngjae looks him in the eye and tells him that from now on, he’ll work hard to become a designer worthy of Junhong’s respect. He announces that he’s dedicating this Fashion Week project to Junhong and tells him he’s sorry for keeping it from him for so long. He hopes Junhong will consider it an apology for making him work in such an awful place with such horrible people, as well as a confession.

Junhong doesn’t have to doubt whether he’d heard correctly or not, as soon enough, Youngjae places a tender kiss on his lips. The crowd gasps and so does Junhong, and suddenly everything feels like a dream. He feels his face going red and he vaguely hears people complaining as they file out of the boardroom, but he doesn’t care. All he wants is for this moment to go on forever.  


 

Youngjae’s hand is still firmly grasping his own, right until everyone has left. Once the room is empty, he lets go and sighs, running his hand nervously through his hair. This isn’t like him at all, he says. He wouldn’t be surprised if the rest of the department stops taking him seriously. Junhong’s stomach does a backflip when he thinks of the implications of this and the fact that technically this is all his fault. He bows over and over and apologises, offering to buy Youngjae a cappuccino, since the presentation cut into his morning break. Hearing this, Youngjae agrees to the drink, however to Junhong’s surprise, he turns down the coffee.  


“Today, I think I’ll have a hot chocolate instead.”

 

 

 

_Cappuccino - End._


End file.
